


give me love.

by RookieBrown



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/F, In this fic mon-el is a decent dude, Supercorp endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:34:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RookieBrown/pseuds/RookieBrown
Summary: Mon-el says "I love you" before he leaves.He tells Kara what love is. But how to stay in it - how to fall in love over and over again - Kara learns from Lena.





	give me love.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a Beta so all mistakes are mine and yeah, this is my supercorp story so be kind.

 

 _Tell me the story about how much the sun loved the moon so much;_  
_He died every night to let her breathe._

 

 

You don’t recognize it – the way it happens, when it happens – or maybe you did. You don’t know.

 

But you do know you couldn’t have stopped it.

 

 

Mon-el – Mike - leaves.

 

The obligatory he had to leave just doesn’t settle in you. You try to understand it. You try to mellow the pain and yes you try – you try – to understand it, give it some time and maybe you’ll breathe again. So yes, you are still fighting to understand the must and the necessity of the why he had to leave when you briefly stare out at his empty desk at work but you can’t just still your mind.

 

You just know that he left and you are alone.

 

You are alone when Alex looks at you, the muttering heavy I’m sorry tonguing again and again in her throat fighting to break out and the sympathy and devotion that melts in you when she embraces you tightly.

 

 

You are alone when Winn and James agrees to get drunk with you in that alien bar – which they do except this time there’s no one to provide you with that something special alcohol and you end up tugging both of them inside a cab.

 

You are alone when Maggie surprises you with a hug and a package of your favorite potstickers at home – you are alone when J’onn stays back for you, shrugging at your why – you are alone when Superman stands by you, as he smacks the shin of the masked alien.

 

You are alone but you don’t cry. Instead you fly. You fly high and high up through the charcoal blackness of the atmosphere, until the city brights dim away like aged wine in your veins but the loneliness doesn’t go away – the distance only magnifies it. You are the Girl of Steel but here you are floating – drunk in your sadness that you can’t seem to speak out to you let the wind guide you down – free falling for once in gravity.

 

 

 

Two weeks go by somehow.

 

 

 

Somewhere in those two weeks, Cat leaves again, back to the Himalayas – you don’t know. She gives you a light squeeze and a wrinkled smile, before she leaves a white card on your desk. The door closes and shut. You are in too much of a lost haze to catch up until much later.

 

Somewhere in those two weeks, every night you go up and patrol the city and every night you find the wind under your cape halting you in front of the leaded building L-Corp.

 

Every night you sit at a roof top across the building, eyes fixated on the only person that burns the midnight’s oil when the rest of the city sleeps. You listen to the echo of her heart.

 

It’s rapid. Vigorous, as if frightened. Your eyes downcast into nothing - the hefty smirk of Lilian Luthor’s she’ll hate you once she know who you are, Kara Danvers – rings kryptonian in your heart – the masked pain walking simultaneously with the pain of losing Mon-el.

 

It’s around 3am when the light in her office blacks out. You watch her the shadows under her eyes, smell that lingering stench of bourbon in her bodice, as she presses the elevator down to the near empty parking lot. You are thankful that Raymond is there to drive her home as she slithers in the backseat, feet wobbling almost breaking out of your stupor and catch her just in case she falls.

 

Instead she holds herself for you.

 

You follow the red headlights of the Merc whisking silently through the sleeping streets of National City. The car dutifully tiptoes in front of her apartment. You watch her steady herself, somehow struggling and dragging herself up to her home. You hover around – close enough to hear her heartbeat but far enough from view. The lock in her abode turns and it’s barely a blink later when the fragile muscles of her heart slowly steadies out.

 

You leave.

 

She doesn’t call you in those two weeks.

 

You don’t call her either.

 

But you still visit her every night – keeping her in your conscious and mind, never too away from your heart.

 

But something in you stops you from crossing the sudden line that’s been made in between. You wonder if it’s because some part of you blames her from taking away that one emblem of happiness that you ever wanted but that part in you shuts down no sooner it comes in play.

 

Because.

 

Just because.

 

_It’s Lena._

 

 

 

The alien activity is slow, so you get to write a lot. Snapper snaps at you at every turn, snarling at redoing your article another nth time. His words enter your ear drum at one and slips through the other, his insults only losing the sharpness. You pull the slipping glasses up your nose and continue to work.

 

It sometimes happens in the third week when his loud thudding on your door makes you pause your work.

 

“I want you on Lena Luthor’s case on the new weaponry she’s been contracted for by the army. Oh, and don’t forget her input on her latest ventures of the string of hospitals her company is apparently shareholding. Get a quote since you are all chubby buddies and have it at my desk at the earliest.” He doesn’t halt at the deafening hesitance of your stance, he just pointedly looks at you leaving no room for argument.

 

 

 

The yellow mask on her face in unbearably unreadable. She’s impeccably dressed, the sharp edges of her blazer cutting her piquant features impressively. She’s stoic as ever – tangy and penetrating, and for some reason you can’t bear to meet the piercing gaze that burns holes in your skin.

 

Still. The obscurity of her face doesn’t diminish as she gestures you to her couch. The same one where one too many times you have encompassed her in you.

 

“What would like you to talk about, Miss Danvers?” she cuts through your train of thoughts. The voice is clipped, the Miss Danvers is harsh and too cold but if you hear closely you’ll see Lena. Insecure and rootless and guilty and its makes your eyes wet.

 

“I – uh – I wanted to take to you about your latest contract with the army, Miss Luthor and about those inaugurations?” You spell out strongly, a loosened hand promoting to pull your leaded glasses up along the bridge of your nose. The silence stretches until Lena aggravatingly clears her throat.

 

“Of course.”

 

She slips ardently well to her CEO façade, like that first time you had met her, making you a tad bit jealous of losing the _metallica_ that _supergirl_ would bring out in you.

 

_“I want to be more than just the Luthor name. I want this company to be more than just that.” You remember her words._

 

_“I can’t undo the past. But I can forge a better future, Kara.” She had told you. So humanely hopeful that you couldn’t quench from not touching her._

You catch that lingering stare as her eyes darts out to the summer perfect sky.

 

“Supergirl told me to be my own hero.”

 

The pen is still touching and writing on the pad when you stop, the grip on it tightens. Lena looks up at you, unaware of your inner turmoil.

 

“She told me Kara Danvers believed me, so I guess this is me trying again.”

 

She holds your eyes this time. _Gentle but firm_.

 

“I’m so sorry, Kara.” She croaks out thickly finally, perfectly nailed fingers fidgeting with the hem of her blouse bow. You hear the rupture in her heart muscles, the thud thud thud ¬bashing in your ears and that drenches of her eyes stabbing against your ribs.

 

“Lena, I -”

 

“No. No.” She nods fervently, distressed hands airing before her to stop you from coming close. “I was just so blind. It was my technology –“ she stops, ”Mon-el – Mike - was your - ” she hiccups, sniveling “- if I had known but I was so fucking stupid, that I didn’t even see Rhea –“ she finally palms her wet face in and not a second later, you are hugging her, her warm face nuzzled under your arms.

 

“She cared, Kara, Rhea made me feel special. No matter her lies even for a little while and I was so desperate for that attention -” her tears blurs the fringes of your shirt, “You are my friend and I’m just sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

 

Two weeks, you had gone without your best friend. The odd hollowness in you pricks vilely at your iron skin, for some odd reason you know it’s not because this time it’s not because of Mon-el. It’s because of your own guilt and the double edged words. You lied too.

 

_She’ll hate you once she knows._

 

_She’ll hate you once she knows._

 

_She’ll leave you too._

 

You find your own fingers digging _against_ the silk blouse, soft waters streaming down.

 

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry too - you want to shout at her._

 

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” You say instead, pressing your nose lightly against the crook of her neck, the breezy aroma of honey and vanilla settling like rain on your skin.

 

 

 

That day you both end up going to a small café just down the street. It’s not Noonan’s but somewhere, somehow in between the smell of freshly brewed coffee and slightly stained mascara lashes – you find yourself web your fingers in hers.

 

There was so much you wanted to say to her.

 

“I’m so glad you are here, Lena.” Your lips quiver out as honest as Rao stands as a belief on Krypton.

 

“Me too.” Ruby lips smile back.

 

 

 

For a first time in many nights, you don’t recognize but missing Mon-el gets a little bit easier.

 

 

 

A visit turns two. Two somehow ends in three. And three stops and flowers in fours. Four times a week you end up visiting her, mostly because to redo the forgotten lunch dates with often than not ends up with dinner. And in other cases, because the CEO has this weird and utterly ridiculous habit of skipping lunch and sometimes dinner.

 

But’s it’s nice. It’s familiar.

 

_It’s her._

 

 

 

“Mon-el was her friend wasn’t he?” She asks you innocently one day, placing her black coffee on the table. It’s a Friday and you are seating at Noonan’s rewriting your article again. The sky is settling in its wispy dusk.

 

You look up at her, eyes stilled at his name. It’s almost been a month now.

 

“Mon-el was Supergirl’s friend too, no?”

 

You nod, still unsure of the context.

 

“I know she’s busy – you know supering around but it’s just it’s been a while since she came to my office. Without any unprecedented disaster on its way, that is.”

 

You don’t know why but either she no longer hides well her emotions that dances on her face or maybe now you are more kempt it reading her.

 

She cares for Supergirl.

 

She sounds so adorably unsure. It makes you giddy.

 

“He was.” You say.

 

“Oh.”

 

There’s an intermittent pause. The thudding in her heart fluttered hard.

 

“She blames me, doesn’t she?”

 

The context finally blares in harsh red before you. You are this inch from hitting your own head on the wooden table and cracking it open.

 

“Supergirl misses him, Lena but she doesn’t nor could she ever blame you.” You answer sincerely.

 

The edges of her buxom lips stretches small, but the hefty feeling in your chest falls and lays down a fluster of unexplained happiness.

 

“You sure?”

 

“I swear. And even if she did, I’ll fight her for you.”

 

She bites her lip, amusedly in wonderment of the predicament and Rao, it makes you leap in your seat.

 

“No violence is necessary but thank you, Kara.”

 

_“Always.”  You promise her._

 

She goes back to her bitter taste of her coffee and you go back to your writing. A benign comfortable silence settles in between you catch yourself restraining to not look up at her.

 

 

 

You feel her scare like it’s in your blood. You leap out of your bed, barely scrambling to put on your super cloak before your own heart’s racing to catch up to her.

 

There’s a gash on her forehead. Her lip’s bleeding and someone’s hand is gripping her throat too vulgarly.

 

The control that makes the alien in you calm and hide in the skin of the human slips like sand, and all you see in red. You don’t remember the crackle of their ribs – you don’t remember their warm blood on your fists – you don’t remember their mercy and their begging – you don’t remember anything.

 

_All you see is her._

 

“Stop, Supergirl. Stop, please.” Your flying fist stops mid-air, you look at her, white as a sheet and horrified. There are five of them, astutely drunk. They look at you as if you are their worst nightmare before they are somehow dragging their feet hurrying away in the midnight’s darkness.

 

Lena grabs her coat over her distressed dress, limping in her heels, her purse lost somewhere in the darkness. She’s passive when you touch her, thumb minutely pressing the oozing cute to know it’s depth-ness. You take in the black bruise around her neck, the stealth cut on her lips. Purple bruised skin on hands and knees illuminate out.

 

Under hooded eyes, she watched you, as your eyes flinch hardly over her bod, ex-raying for any internal injury. Thankfully there are none.

 

Her lips tremble when you un-worded wrap your arm around her neck and gutted legs. The press is light but you know it’s hurting.

 

“No hospital.” She still demands.

 

“Lena.”

 

Her demands and those lost eyes still overrules the reign of you.

 

“No hospitals.” You snarl back.

 

She quaintly looks at you, pressing her face in your cape, glacial tears shivering down your spine.

 

“Lex killed someone’s wife, someone’s mother, someone’s father, someone’s daughter. Someone’s family. How far should I run to get away from all his repercussions?”

 

You don’t know how to answer that.

 

“They didn’t even ask me anything. They were drunk and they just -” she snivels, numb to the ointment that you put on her.

 

You grit your teeth at your helplessness. She looks so small laden under her covers.

 

“You should have let me -”

 

“No. No. _Then we would be no different than Lillian or Lex. You know that._ ”

 

You do know that. But it’s so hard to be good all the time.

 

Your heavy steps are non-vocal on the marble tiles as you tug the flurry sheets around her. The light of the night lamp is low, but it’s bright enough to see the dried black length on her forehead.

 

Its second nature when you move up, fingers ghosting over her cut.

 

“It’ll scar.” You say.

 

Washed out pine eyes meets you dozily. “Thank you.”

 

“No, thank you for stopping me, Lena.” You stare at the red fiber of your skirt. “I don’t think I would have otherwise.”

 

“Krypton died before my eyes, I couldn’t do anything. My parents died and I couldn’t do anything. People I care about, they either leave or die and sometimes I just feel so restricted, you know, so helpless on not being able to do anything more. That what if always teases me and seeing you like that, I – I would have regretted it later. So thank you, Lena.”

 

There’s no pity in her eyes as she watches you. It’s just admiration when lithe fingers of hers lay softly on your kryptonian skin.

 

“I’m sorry about Mon-el, Supergirl.”

 

“It’s not your fault. He was uh – the last son of Daxam, his home planet and I was of Krypton. He was a refugee on Earth and have been I. Even though, he didn’t lose all of his fellow people, he understood me. I didn’t have to hide any part of me with him, you know. I don’t know how to explain this to you, it’s just I - ”

 

“ _\- you feel alone in a crowd people_.”

 

The sands of time stalled in your eyelashes when you looked at her. She understood you without even trying too hard.

 

“Me too, you know.” She says instead. “But if you ever want to talk, just know you are not completely alone, ok?”

 

The gravity of the matter hung between the two of you. You nod, mouth opening and close to say something. Nothing comes out except of a nod. She peers at you at your incomplete thought, eyelids growing heavy under the pain killer dosage and the soothing circles you place on the roof of her hand.

 

She doesn’t ask you to stay. She’s Lena Luthor, of course she doesn’t. But against every sanity, you do. You pull the arm chair from her living room and curl up against its wooden arms, eyes still stuck on her soft crinkles of her face.

 

 

 

Another month passes. You stare at the sky, missing him but with a small smile.

 

 

 

Your hands run solemnly over the worn out covers of the books. You pull out an especially yellow one, fingers running scantily over the nearly torn off cover.

 

“It’s one of my favourites.” A silk voice says back. You peer at her through your glasses. She takes off her mittens, gliding up her feet to you.

 

_The Book Thief._

 

“Hmm.” You smile, clasping onto the book before putting it back in the large shelf of printed words.

 

“Eliza loves this one.” You tell her fondly. “She would read me this one too many times, the words are kind of stuck now.” You gesture to your head whilst she closes up to you, sleeveless skin touching your shoulder. Its then, you lapse over your yellow pages, your nose feverishly inhaling the smell of boiling noodles and cheese.

 

You look up at her upfront. Greasy stained apron and a messy a raven haired bun, strands falling over a thin layer of sweat. She looks domestic and you are awestruck.

 

“You are cooking.” You state bluntly.

 

She smiles too big.

 

“Yes. I do can cook. Decently might I add.” She laughs, bumping your shoulder blade with her.

 

You stagger in your words, a faint ruddiness lining under your ears.

 

“I – I know. I just – it suits you, Lena. I just didn’t know you could cook.” You shrug unknowingly.

 

Her eyes dulls momentarily. “It’s more of a necessity. Being alone does that to you.”

 

“Lena, I’m sorry I didn’t -”

 

“Non-sense, Kara.” She tugs at your sleeve. “It’s the weekend and home food is home food, I suppose and it’s always nice to cook for more than one. Want to help?”

 

“I would love nothing more.”

 

You think her smile’s brighter than the sun, even under the eclipse of the moon.

 

 

 

“I want to tell her, Alex.”

 

You are standing in the DEO, hands crossed in front of your chest. You see the meagre tightening in Alex’s jaws, dark eyes darting across your face. Alex doesn’t ask who.

 

“Lena?”

 

You nod. You feel a slight prodding in the back of your head, on the periphery you see J’onn move, the martian studying every bit of your movement. Winn oddly clears is throat at the awkward silence, key typing seeming to be the only sound in the vicinity. You pretend to be ignorant.

 

Alex nods too, hands still on her hips. She doesn’t say anything, but the lack of her answer makes you assume the worst.

 

“Winn?” You finally ask the other man. He wheels around his chair, eyes downcast at your apparent question.

 

You bite your cheeks at the blood that boils in your veins.

 

“Why, Kara?”

 

“Because, it’s Lena. She helped me – us – so many times – “

 

“ – we know that, Kara, but -”

 

“She’s a Luthor at the end of the day. She’s still not trustworthy enough even after everything. Rao.” You complete for your sister, the flare in your eyes hurting.

 

This time, you nod to yourself, eyes flicking between Winn, Alex and J’onn before turning and flying out.

 

 

 

“I understand why you love her, Kara.” Mon-el had whispered-ly told you before stealing a kiss. It was right before the Daxamite invasion, before your first and last I love you was shared.

 

You remember his face. In your memory, his face gets greyed over Lena’s. Every contour. Every wrinkle. Every smile.

 

Even Mon-el knew. He understood.

 

The huge cemented pile of concrete crumbles down under your punch. It doesn’t erase the facial of hesitancy you had seen over their faces neither your fear. It anything it fuels your anger more. It makes you want to bleed.

 

You hear light footing interrupt your session.

 

“Kara.”

 

“Alex.” You are monotonous in your reply.

 

“Kara, it – if you keep telling everyone it won’t be a secret and Kara, listen -”

 

You raise a singular hand, urging her to stop. You knew where this was going. The same old story that kept on repeating like a broken record.

 

“You are my sister, my family, Alex and I love you.” You pause, moving a few measured steps towards her. “I’m not asking you to like Lena. I’m asking you to respect her for her actions. For once. I think she has at least earned that. And to respect mine.”

 

“Kara - ”

 

“She, Lena, is so much more than her name. I wish you could see her how I see her, Alexandra. She’s important to me, you know.”

 

“Kara, I -” Alex bites her chapped lips, the disappointment and hurt scarring her face. But you don’t wait. This time it wasn’t your fault.

 

You wish Mon-el was here, just this once. He would help her understand.

 

“I’ll see you later.”

 

 

 

It’s Alex who asks you to invite her to a game night, a week since a near havoc broke down between the two of you. You don’t let shock or surprise dwell bright on your features before you find yourself hugging her, holding her as close as you can.

 

And Alex, like always, she meets you halfway.

 

 

 

You don’t know why, why amidst the horde of people in your room or even in the city, it’s her heartbeats that calls out to you. But it does, uniquely it does. You glance up at the wall clock, it’s barely 7 in the evening. Lena, punctual as ever arrives sharp at 7 but she doesn’t come up. From your third floor, you hear the conscious drumroll of her heart as she seats in her car, nervous fingers probably dabbling on the car wheel.

 

Most of your people are here, them all meeting Lena beyond the professional walls kind of makes you nervous too.

 

It’s only about 15 minutes later, when you hear the familiar click of high heels on your floor that you gather up the attention of every hoarder in your room.

 

“Every one of you will behave tonight.” The steeled sternness doesn’t escape anyone’s eyes, if anything Maggie looks on highly amused with Alex’s narrowing eyes meeting you.

 

There’s the twin knock on your door and in walks in Lena, half face hidden in a bouquet of lilies and plumerias and an old bottle of scotch. There’s a hurrying lovely, thanks Luthor from Alex as she nearly snatches the pristine bottle leaving a fumbling you hastily stubbing over Lena.

 

“You didn’t have to bring anything, Lena.” You exclaim, hands delicately running over the showering delicacy of white and bright yellow.

 

“I wanted to.” She commands softly. “And thank you, for inviting me.” The touch of hers on your arm, it’s simple but it’s the mere of simplicity and it’s intensity that makes you unable to keep your eyes off her.

 

“Maybe you should invite her, Little Danvers?” Maggie brings you out of your stupor, a sculptured brow raised peculiarly.

 

You watch Lena look up at the third intruder before a stranger realization dawns on her face, before darting up back to you. Disobligingness clung to your skin, you looking at to Maggie who seems unbaled by the entire situation.

 

She smiles lop-sided, dimpled cheeks enunciating out at she raises her hand towards Lena who takes it up.

 

“Detective Margaret Sawyer which you may know me as but you can call me Maggie. And I’m also kinda sorry about last time.”

 

Flamboyant green eyes fluctuates, they brighten vividly at the woman in front.

 

“You were just doing your job. And it’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

 

 

 

And then, introductions are made.

 

 

 

She’s wary and a bit unsteady too, as she saddles by you, her clothed thigh brushing against yours. She feels out of place and when’s its unannounced that you will be playing Pictionary, she feels like a furry kitten out of her cot, to you. It’s so funny and you try to cover it up with a cough. Except she glares at you, pinching the softness of your thigh.

 

It doesn’t hurt an inch, it just warms your insides.

 

You want to partner up with Lena obviously but then you see Winn, light headed almost, as he asks her to be her partner.

 

You hear the _us, nerds gotta stick together, Lena_ when Winn says. And then he stutters with sharp eyes falls on him. But then they soften _oh so tenderly_ and she looks up at you before nodding to him.

 

You can’t take your eyes off her the entire evening. There’s this unseen unheard magnetism that focus your center as if she’s your focal point. But it’s just not you.

 

From time to time, you glance up to find James – Alex and J’onn peeking at the unclad CEO of L-Corp – it’s just Lena, they are seeing. Bare and heavenly exposed, in open hair and loosened shirt, and with her pearly white teeth.

 

The nerd team wins. _Duh, obviously._ Winn being the little corgi he is, engulfs Lena in a clumsy victory hug only to be frozen somewhere mid-way. Lena is too. But then, out of daze, she awaken and hesitant fingers hold him back.

 

Your cheek muscles are getting vehemently tired but you just can’t help it. You just can’t help it when she whisperedly yells at you, like a three year old seeing colored balloons for the first time.

 

“We won.” She says. Your heart feels like it might richochet out of your ribcage.

 

 _I adore you so very much, Lena._ You want to scream at her, eradicating all those wrong doings that ever happened to her.

 

“I know.” You say instead.

 

Monopoly is oddly skimmed out considering Lena was the CEO here and honestly, Maggie had no interest in giving up her title, not just yet when she had just dethroned Alex. After scrabble, a few card games later and 4 pizzas later, a chess game was suggested by both Lena and Alex.

 

It was probably the first time that night, did the two of them actually talk that didn’t involve the common topic of you. You opened a fresh packet of potstickers when the game started. Jeremiah had taught you the basics of the primal game – it just never appealed to you. But somehow, the slight tilt in Lena’s jaw, the articulate biting of her plump made it worth the while.

 

It was nearing the end and you were sure that Lena would be winning except her bishop an astounding move gasping both Lena and you when Alex moved her knight and a domineering checkmate resounded.

 

“You are one worthy opponent, Lena though -” Alex clocked her head, amusedly at Lena towards the board, who replied with a sheepish, “I know. God, it’s embarrassing.” She peeped at Alex, “I got distracted -”

 

You swallowed your potsticker when you interrupted then, “By what?”

 

Lena looked at you, all vermilion cheeked. She raises a perfect finger, brushing her thumb over the cover of your lips, delving off the chocolate sauce, puncturing the air out of you.

 

“I just was.” She supplies vaguely, a small grin around the corners, unaware.

 

If Alex notices that Lena gives you a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through you, she doesn’t say anything.

 

It’s somewhere around 10 when James is the first to leave, courting a humble goodnight, Lena Luthor before departing. It’s small but it’s a step. J’onn follows suit, an isolated empathy in his eyes as he looks a final time at Lena before closing the door after him.

 

“I’m hungry.” It’s Winn who all but wails dramatically, 3o minutes into the Die Hard. Alex groans audibly, and Maggie mumbling on her nearing hunger too, already reaching out for the phone.

 

“Yeah, I’m sort of hungry too.” You finally give voice to the rumbles in your stomach. Alex groans too loud and Winn’s all _you literally ate two of the pizzas alone_ at you

 

A few minutes pass on groaning and whispered yelling when Lena slowly says, “I could whip a few waffles with butter and syrup. I saw chicken in the fridge and I don’t mind if – I - ” she pauses at the turning of heads. ”If that’s alright with you, I suppose.” She finishes lamely.

 

Winn’s star gawking _really, Lena?_ gets shadowed by you. “You don’t have to Lena, we can -”

 

“I want to, Kara. It’ll take a few minutes if you can handle that?”

 

You bite your lips to stop your blooming smile, “Only because you love to cook. And is an awesome chef.”

 

“I’m partial to cooking and I’m a decent cook.” She’s mellow in her reprimands and malignantly ruddy up her neck. She pats your thighs before pulling herself up, rolling her eyes at your loud yeah sure, decent cook. She walks regally to the kitchen, plucking over the apron over her trousers.

 

“You know what, I’m going to help her.” Winn dashes towards your small kitchen, followed shortly by Maggie, who’s right on his heels just because, _the more cooks the lesser will be the time._

 

Bruce Willis is arguing in the mute tv screen when your eyes dart towards the kitchen door as another shrill of laughter rolls in out.

 

Alex follows your eyes.

 

“Did you tell her?”

 

“No. Not yet.” You curl up to her. “But I can’t keep lying to her. She’s important to me, Alex.”

 

She looks at the screen. “So you have told me, Kara.” After a beat she says, “Do you trust her?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then you should it. I trust your decisions.” She sits up on the floor and faces you. “Why didn’t you tell her though?”

 

“Because you and I, we weren’t on the same page. You are family, Alex. Golly, I want to tell her. I just don’t want her to end up hating me.”

 

The insecurity needles your insides. “She won’t.” You look up at her incredulously. Alex repeats determined, “Trust me, she won’t.”

 

There’s a clash of utensils in the kitchen. An intermittent and another bask of low pitched laughs frizzles out. Your eyes locks to the entrance. You are almost on your knees, up when a hand on your wrist stops you.

 

“You might be Supergirl to the world, Kara, but to me, you are still my little sister and I do trust you. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise. I love you, little one.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

 

 

You nearly crush the mug in your hands when Lena’s phone rings pausing your ultimate confession. It’s like the nth time you have been plucking up your residual courage to tell her and then something or the other happens and you end up getting the short end of the stick.

 

And today has been sheer painful.

 

Lena raises a single finger at you, before ordering into her phone. It lasts ten minutes. You strength diminishes to nil in those ten minutes. Lena finally gives one last sigh into the phone before thrusting it down.

 

“Utter ignorant bastards.” She gravels out. “Anyway, what were you going to say?”

 

You nod far too crudely that is humanly possible.

 

“Nothing important.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yes. Yes. Honestly, I should be heading out, my lunch hour’s almost over and you know how Snapper loves snapping at me.” You rapidly say.

 

“I’ll get Raymond for you then, he can dri -”

 

“No need, Lena, I flew here anyways -” You bite your lip so hard that it might draw out blood, the momentarily grip on the seat almost denting it. “I mean, I flew here in a bus, obviously duh, since there was like no traffic, so yeah, you don’t have to bother with Raymond. I’ll be fine.”

 

You scurry out before Lena can say any further, nearly hitting your head on her office door.

 

 

 

Seasons are changing before your eyes. Summer holding out her arms to embody the rain and the fall. Already, it’s been eight months.

 

 

 

You didn’t mean to stumble on it nor did you have any wish on invading her privacy. You had borrowed the book from Lena a while ago, you were nearing the end of _The hunchback of notre dame_ when a black and white polaroid picture skids out and onto your lap. It’s all grey and yellow, but you still make up the pale skin and auburn hair, long and curly. There’s that same jaw and the shard euphorically blue eyes.

 

You are tracing her outline, too engrossed to hear the shut and close of her bathroom door.

 

“Kara?” You almost fall off the leather couch. Your fingers butter and the photo falls to the ground.  
Any explanation that you have vacuums out in your curiosity to know the woman in the picture.

 

“Who is she?”

 

Lena looks at up before staring up at the photo, tragically nostalgic. There’s a mesmerizing yearning in her eyes when she says, “Luna. My máthair. ”

 

You don’t know if anyone ever told her a sorry. Just a sorry. For a loss. You think not. No matter pathetic it sounds.

 

“She’s beautiful.” You settle on. “I’m sorry too.” You say.

 

She nods, tugging the picture against her bosom. “I thought I had lost this picture, it’s the only one I have to remember her by.” She cries, little droplets wetting the picture weary surface. Holding her comes naturally to you, cuddling and coaxing her as you would run fingers against her scalp.

 

“I wonder if she’s proud me.”

 

“She is.” You press, embosoming her. “I know I’m. Tell me about her?”

 

Lena brushes the nose against your cardigan. In glassy eyes, she looks at you. You nod again, encouraging her.

 

“My mama, she used to read me Yeats – “

 

 

 

You find yourself staring up at the sky, wondering if he’s looking down at you. You know, that’s it’s getting easier to miss him in these long nine months. To forget him, and you feel guilty. You feel guilty that what if a day comes when you do actually forget him. Forget your krypton.

 

_The dusky sunrise of Orion city._

 

_The pesky smiles of your mother and father._

 

_The remembrance that home meant Krypton and not Earth._

 

_Not the Danvers. Not Alex. Not Lena._

 

Clicking heels on the marbled floor lulls you out from the dark of the outside.

 

“Kara?”

 

“Lena?” You haze out. “What are you doing here at Catco -? I thought we were going to meet at 6?”

 

Lena almost moves into your space. “James let me in actually. He said you were still here. It’s 7.30, Kara.”

 

“Oh my – I really am sorry. I totally zoned out and – I uh – I’m sorry for missing the reservations -”

 

“Kara. Kara.” She holds you up at your biceps. “It’s quite alright. But are you okay?”

 

You bob your head dubious of the clawing inside.

 

“Kara.” Lena heaves your name out.

 

“I never told him I love him under the very last, you know.” You stare out at the yellow and reds of the brimming lights of the city. “He said it before so many times and I didn’t until I knew wouldn’t be able to anymore. And now, after all these months, missing him gets easier by the day. Some days, I don’t even miss him that much as I used too. Why, Lena, why?”

 

“I don’t know, Kara.” She sounds little.

 

You look up to her.

 

You always look up to her.

 

The _why_ shouting at your face, but you don’t see it.

 

“I don’t know either, Lena. I guess that’s why it hurts.”

 

A hand tangles up with you. An amiable feeling confound at the pit of your stomach.

 

“You loved him, right. That’s why you won’t ever forget him. And thank you for being honest with me, Kara.”

 

Her heartfelt-ness perforates your insides.

 

“Lena, I have to tell you something.”

 

“Kara?”

 

The simultaneous sirens of the fire engines and the vibration of your phone standstills you.

 

The sirens of the engines are thunderous but the helpless screams of the trapped souls is soul-deafening. You mute the phone shut at the notification from Alex.

 

“I have to go. Family emergency. I’m going to call you later – “

 

Velvet lips press subdued close to your lips instead, stealing your words. “Call me if you need me. Anytime, ok?”

 

You are almost fixated in the cement, a silly hand raising over her lipstick imprint before you nod to her one final time.  
You spend a sleepless night that day, still replaying the indulgent compression on your skin over and over again. It stays with you the whole time and maybe forever.

 

 

 

It’s like someone’s playing it in slow motion.

 

 

It happens on a Tuesday, ill-defined and unimportant at 1o in the night.

 

You should have known these months too good to be true. You should have known that even behind bars, Lillian Luthor will never stop being Lillian Luthor.

 

The man appears like a homeless to you, lanky clothes and dusted torn gloves. Your back is turned at Alex who’s locking up her car. Lena is standing just countable feet away from you, waiting for Maggie. The bar you have been planning to go to is just down the road.

 

Neither notices anything.

 

That homeless man passes by you, slowing only inches away from Lena. You don’t notice, neither does Alex but he pulls out this caliber and then a shot is fired.

 

That man staggers back stupefied at the outcome when Lena’s body falls numb on the cobbled street. Chunks of thermal blood comes swimming out from her chest, swamping and inundating her cream coat.

 

You rush forward to Lena, her eyes closed tight and search for her heartbeat. So so faint.

 

The assailant’s feet fumbles as he runs but you are travel at light speed, hands already gripping sadistically around his neck as you push him to the wall. You can’t even make out his face past the blurriness of your eyes.

 

You hear the satisfactorily hear the break of his rib when your push him hard.

 

“Kara. Kara.” You hear the incessant call of your name. _“She’s dying.”_ You hear next. _“You need to take her –_ “

 

You are already in the air, her pantry beat of her heart bleeding in yours.

 

 

 

You haven’t felt this lost – since – since – you don’t know. It’s like it's your heart stuck that is in the OR.

 

It’s like you are the one living on a fault line.

 

And God, you don’t know why.

 

 

 

“He was supposed to shoot you, Miss Danvers. Just you and Lena was to learn your truth, alien. She wasn’t supposed to jump in front of the bullet instead.” Lillian spits at your face. “But father like daughter I suppose. Little Lena, always naïve and a fool in love.”

 

The hatred in your inflames like charcoal.

 

You collar Lillian against the metal bars, harsh enough that her head bangs on them.

 

“Don’t say her name. Don’t you dare say her name. You hate me, ok. You want to kill me, ok but don’t you fucking dare come near her ever again or Rao, I swear on Lena, the monster you make us Kryptonians out to be, that will be the least of your worries.”

 

The murderous rage in you cripples you of any emotion. You don’t see the strain of fear dance across her face. You don’t see it settle down somehow deep in her looming darkness.

 

She stares at you too long until her eyes enlarges in a certain realization.

 

She feigns ecstasy. “You are in love with her.”

 

The flicker of confusion on your face, she catches it miraculously well.

 

“You didn’t know did you?”

 

“You are ridiculous, Luthor.” You bare you teeth at her.

 

She however, feigns ectasia. “Oh the irony, you are in love with her and she’s going to hate you forever.”

 

You don’t why Lillian’s you are in love with her haunting laugh stays in you and or why it’s the only sound you hear when you blast off into the sky.

 

 

 

“How is she?”

 

“Sleeping. Steady.”

 

You drag your finger along the precision of her jaw, replacing a strand behind her ear and listen to the steady rhythm of her heart. It’s only then do you soundlessly settle on the chair by her.

 

It’s been six days since the shooting. The bullet was precise in its locomotion, hitting her right in between the chest. But somehow, maybe Rao did grace you with his blessings, that the bullet missed an inch enough for her to live.

 

It’s been six says since she’s on and off in her conscious self. Most in those six days she sleeps. So you are either working or patrolling out the city, fighting goons or whatever leaches the day brings and the rest of the time you are here by her side.

 

What if she wakes up and you are not there?

 

You crack your neck around, trying to relieve the tensed muscle of the neck at you cozy yourself in the seat.

 

Alex doesn’t say anything. She goes through her chart again.

 

“She’s going to hate me.” You insensately state. “Lillian thinks so.”

 

“She’s insane.”

 

“I think she’s right though.”

 

“Kara – “

 

“She also thinks that apparently Lena is in love with me and I’m with her.”

 

The flipping of the pages stop. Alex looks up at you, agitated.

 

“Are you?” You look up at her. Unsolicited and suddenly conscious of her question. “In love with her?”

 

“Alex, what? No.”

 

Alex squints her eyes, shaking like you are some child you doesn’t know what she’s saying.

 

“I love her, I’m not in love with her. I can’t be.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because she –she’s Lena and I’m me, Alex.”

 

“Then tell me when was the last time I had ever seen you like this? Like a fish out of a water? So precarious and hopeless. You weren’t even like this with Mon-el.”

 

“Alex.”

 

“No. You are so blind. You need to see. You look at her like she’s literally made of stardust. God damn it, you protect like she carries your heart. And the way, she looks at you, for god sake she took a bullet for you – Kara - ”

 

“Shut up. Alex just shut up. I don’t want to hear any more of this. All I know is that I need her to open her to open her eyes. I just need her to be okay, safe and sound. And if something happens to her, I don’t think I’ll surv – “

 

Your voice and tears gets lost in Alex’s coat.

 

“She’ll be okay, right?” It’s petulant and desperate but you want to know. You need to know.

 

“She’s your Lena, no? She’ll be fine.”

 

You don’t argue with her on that. You dream of her that night. Of the smile that she wears like a crown on her head, uninhibited and so cravingly yours.

 

 

 

You lose track of everything these days. Everyone including him. Even you.

 

_It’s just Lena. Lena. Lena._

 

You try not to think of what Alex said that day but despite your struggle those words end on inked on the walls of your heart.

 

Maybe you don’t try hard enough to erase them.

 

 

 

On the seventh day, you watch her sleep clung eyes peering under heavy lashes. She smiles dopily. You can foretell the signs of her slipping into slumber soon enough.

 

 _Kara._ She sighs your name out longingly, lithe fingers palming against yours. You are not over your shock that she’s already asleep.

 

You press a long kiss on her forehead. Sleep well Lena.

 

 

 

It’s in the late hours in the evening of the eighth day when she sits up on her bed. She struggles and you as supergirl is already there to steady her up. Her left shoulder is impaled from the vigorous bruise, even the smallest flinch burns blue in her.

 

You have already placed her pills in front, a glass of water in your hand when she takes them up. There’s a stretch of nothingness too long that runs goosebumps on your skin. You feel her eyes upon you during the entirety as you fidget with yourself.

 

“I’m glad you are okay.” It’s the first thing you say. There’s more you wish to add but it gets stuck in the lump inside.

 

“Who was he?”

 

You stand up from her bed, amassing distance between the two for you. You try to clear the quiver of the unknown, fingers entwining with the loose strings of the hospital sheets.

 

“Your mother had sent him.”

 

“To kill me?”

 

“No. She believed that I was Kara Danvers and she wanted it to be exposed. You were never are target, Lena.”

 

Lena sits ram-rod straight. Her voice solid yet unrecognizable. “Are you?”

 

Your silence gives her the desired answer. It all happens in a second. You watch her shut down from crestfallen – to frowning face and sad eyes – to an emotional mask. The surprise doesn’t hit her, it just solidifies in her.

 

“You knew?”

 

She doesn’t meet you in your eyes. “I knew, but then again I didn’t.”

 

“I’m so so sorry, Lena.”

 

She still doesn’t meet you in your eyes. You hear her nuzzle her nose and that sniveling sound.

 

“Lena – “

 

“Did they all know?” She asks. Your sister, Winn, Maggie, J’onn, James.

 

“Yes, they did but Lena – “

 

She shakes her head. “It’s alright. I’m really not feeling well. Can we talk later?”

 

“Lena, please.”

 

“Please, Kara.” She requests.

 

Like always, you end up relenting, troubled tears rolling down your cheeks. You nod, shutting the door behind you.

 

 

 

On the ninth day, she leaves the DEO.

 

She tilts her head like a stranger. “Thank, Agent Danvers.”

 

You watch Alex, almost move her hand to her, “Lena - ”

 

She shakes her head and Alex reconciles instantly.

 

The heels in her shoes stutter and despite her being firm of her feet, you still rush to her. For a brief moment, she nearly gives in to you before slacking back like she’s been hurt.

 

“Lena - ” You say erratic.

 

“I need some time, Supergirl. Please.”

 

Hearing her call you supergirl sounds disdain but still you nod and watch her disappear behind wet eyelids and black glass.

 

 

 

You try to settle down the storm against your rib cage. It’s dormant but Rao, when its breaks does it hurt. Under the cold stare of the kryptonite, punching the iron sack hurts immensely but it helps. You can see the tiny purple clotted lines forming on your hands but you keep on hitting until you are down to one knee. Still you can’t get her image out of your head.

 

Her inked all callous morning hair.

 

Her toothy grin of a smile.

 

The effervescence of her eyes.

 

The way she looks at you.

 

The light touch.

 

Those lip-bites.

 

Somehow, you find yourself going back in your memory walks just to recapture her to heal her absence, like it was yesterday. But yesterday, you had only deemed her a friend. Your best friend. Your well-wisher.

 

Now, something – everything about her pronounces out, bordering and marring all of your senses. You admire her. You respect her. You need her. Then why was it like you are forgetting something?

 

You nod your head out at the ridiculous thoughts. You get up on your feet again, you flare up the kryptonite strength and restart from the beginning.

 

“Can I interrupt you?” A low keyed knocking at the entrance takes away your focus. J’onn stands passively, hands behind his back. You nod and he steps in. The first thing he does, is switch off the flare.

 

“You have been here for quite a while.” He states.

 

“Well, Snapper gave me an early evening, can you believe that and the city’s pretty quiet after Lanky Red so-” you shrug “ - here I’m.”

 

“I believe he called himself Thasia’s Ranger.” He corrects you. You shrug, prompting moving past him to for the switch – when he says “Kara, would you happen to tell me what’s going on? Invading someone’s thoughts, I don’t do it for fun but you are forcing my hand here.”

 

You don’t say anything.

 

This time, he says that soft “Kara” like when a father calls out to his daughter. Generously yet protective.

 

“You were taking in too much hits out there. You got us all worried. If I hadn’t intruded then -”

 

“I was distracted.” You angrily cut him off. “I would have been fine though.”

 

“By what? What’s so important that you couldn’t concentrate? You are Supergirl. You were being sloppy and rash, endangering all those civilians around you. People depend on you and seeing you out there – do you know much it hurt?”

 

“I know.” You thumb harshly on the pillared wall. “What if I don’t want to be Supergirl all the time, J’onn?” You say with a voice laden with unshed tears.

 

“She said she needed time. To stomach that I’m supergirl. And I’m giving her time but it’s been a week and now when I go to her office, Jess tells me that she’s flown to Montreal for some work thing. I don’t know why it hurts so much. J’onn, she’s my best friend and I just care for so damn much that it hurts and I feel like punching something all the time.”

 

You sit up, steadying your fastening heart, hastily scrubbing off something from your cape. J’onn sits by you, his hand on your head as he pats you gently.

 

“When I was in my planet, we had this ritual of hunting animals when you wanted to court someone. There was this girl and I wanted to impress to a hunter a daxgran – a sort of a miniature panther – anyway, in the process I got hurt, the girl was impressed but A’eina wasn’t, she didn’t talk to me for 4 whole days.”  
At your confused face, he laughed low at his cherished memory. “A’eina was my best friend. She said that if that girl actually like me then there would have been no need for the demonstration of showing male prowess.”

 

“What happened to that girl?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“And A’eina?”

 

“Well, she forgave me and became my wife sometime later.” He paused at your oh face, placing his face over his joined hands. “Yes. oh. In a way it was. Often times, Lena reminds me of her. Fierce. Loyal. And passionate.”

 

“She is, J’onn.” You say almost too dreamily. “And she’s so good, you know. I just feel like I should have told her sooner.”

 

“It wouldn’t have mattered until you were ready yourself, Kara.”

 

“Yeah.” You weep out, dragging each word. “Lena understood it you know. And the worst part is she wasn’t even angry. She was – she was just so disappointed.”

 

“I fell in love with A’eina with the way she touched without words, without hands.” You hear him say. “It happens.”

 

Then he looks at you.

 

“It’s inevitable when you find the one.”

 

 

 

When Jess informs you that Miss Luthor had supposedly extended her stay at Montreal for another week, its then you finally fly off towards North.

 

_Inevitable._

_Inevitable._

_Inevitable._

 

The atmosphere’s frozen and it seems like a white avalanche is breaking out, roaring thunderously in lightning and ever pouring rain. You are glad that in this midst no one’s going to seeing the flash of red and blue flying past towards one of the most towering hotels of the city.

 

Her left shoulder is strained up in a bandage as she stands staring at nothing through her balcony glass. You hear her heart beat melodiously and seeing her so serene who wonder if it was impulsive of you to come for her.

 

_I need time._

 

_I need time._

 

It’s locked in your heart.

 

But need to stop the voices in your heart before you run yourself to the all. By the time, she’s turned her back to the glass door, do you step ever so softly on the balcony tile. Your eyelids get heavy under the weight of cold drops, rain water slipping through skin tight fabric, almost making the foreign skin crawl humanly.

 

Maybe it’s you. or maybe it’s her.

 

Or maybe it’s the both of you.

 

You haven’t even called her, when she’s half across through the warm indoors of her room, is that she turns and almost gets rooted on the carpeted spot.

 

“Supergirl?”

 

She moves to fast for your liking, like she might trip over anytime and damage her arm, but then she clips over the knob gesturing the wet self of you in. It’s not a moment later, do you find yourself blushing vehemently bed root as she’s moving her uninjured arm over to your zipper.

 

You don’t hear her you are an idiot – you flies in such weather – what you didn’t see clear enough and ramped yourself into a building – or worse you might get pneumonia – you hear her every words but somehow you only see her.

 

Concerned.

 

Devoted.

 

Lena.

 

Lena,

 

You want to laugh when the inevitability wrecks you.

 

You understand the inevitability when J’onn said.

 

You understand when Alex said how she carries your heart.

 

You understand Lillian, how you are the fool in love.

 

 _I’m in love with you._ You want to say.

 

“I missed you.” Your lost voice breaks out instead. Low and soft like your words are made of glass and they might break before they could ever reached her and heavenly it’s enough for you now. Her hand stops somewhere midway and she moves away, only inches, but still you miss her ardent humane warmth.

 

You are holding your suit up, cream skin melting past the open zipper and you watch her bite her lower lip. You watch keenly, the watercolor shade of a red moving up and up, past freckles and neck and on her rosy cheeks. And then your eyes gets locked on her chapped soft pink lips.

 

Lena clears her throat but you don’t break your contact. It’s mesmerizing. She pushes the white robe in your hands, moving further away from you and you have to find this addictive urge of holding her closer to you - right where she belongs.

 

“Bathroom’s on the right.”

 

Your daydream doesn’t break and nor the rupture in your heart as is searches of her deep ones.

 

 

 

“You are an idiot.”

 

She says instantly as she takes a seat opposite to you. you roll uo the sleeves of the MIT sweatshirt, almost caught up in that worn out smell of detergent and Lena’s.

 

“I needed to ask you something.” You justify.

 

“And that couldn’t have waited until, I don’t know, it wasn’t raining cats and dogs outside?” You felt like a five year old being scolded for running down the stairs. She parts her lips to reprimand you again but you are cut her off this time.

 

“No.” You state adamantly.

 

“No?” Lena parrots astonishes. She swallows her lump, shifting in her seat again. “And what is it that you wanted to ask me, Supergirl.” Her tone has that inaudible bite of narcissism and anger but it’s the hurt, her hurt that hurts you.

 

“It’s Kara.” You whisper too low to reach her. The edges of your heart waters. “Do you hate me?”

 

For a moment you see the fringes of her face change like she was about to laugh but then she catches the hollowness in your voice. The nerve wrenching isolation and profound sadness, fatigue engraved in your worn face.

 

“What?”

 

“I said, do you hate me, Lena?” You ask, your voice crippling down like a tear stained glass. Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t rip my heart out.

 

She stared at you hard. Her eyes stuck on your face like bright green unkempt grass.

 

“You are an idiot.” You hear her say, no playfulness in her voice as she says so. It’s just a hard darkening stare. Unyielding and powerful.

 

“I know.” You rasp, hot tears spilling out.

 

“You really are an idiot.” You don’t hear the brokenness in her voice as your own heartbreak collapses in your ears. You don’t see her move until there’s a warm press on your legs and she’s sitting on your lap, nearly straddling you.

 

“You are so daft, Supergirl.” She says lightly in the shell of your ear, sniveling against the glimmering color of emerald. You wrap her waist, circumventing her as humanly close as possible.

 

“Kara.” You wheeze out.

 

“You are so daft, Kara.” Her voice is mushy pressed against the sweater, “I could never hate you. I could never ever hate you. I - ” She pauses, rubbing the pencil tears from your eyes, “I was merely hurt – disappointed. There were so many signs and I think I deliberately looked over them. And I know, it’s not because you didn’t trust, I know you do, but I can’t help but wonder at the end of the day maybe being Luthor does matter.”

 

Her sadness was slow, like a thousand paper cut.

 

“It wasn’t.” She nods, not believing. “It wasn’t. It’s – I couldn’t bear the thought of anything bad happening to you. And look what happened - ” You ghost your hand over her clothed chest before planting it over its surface. “You got hurt. You are a human, so fragile and I couldn’t – you got lucky, Lena. If I wasn’t fast – oh god - ” you exclaim in reminiscence, a supine resentment breaking out at the forever scar, “you shouldn’t have jumped in front of the bullet. Who does that?”

 

“I would do it again, if I had too.” She says.

 

“Lena.” You are terrified. “Don’t -”

 

She presses a kiss on your forehead. It burns deep and low.

 

“I would.”

 

Her bandaged hand is wrapped against your side. You try to not to distress it. After moments later, you finally say, “Lillian told me you would hate me once you knew the truth. I couldn’t sleep for days.”

 

Lena doesn’t comment on Lillian knowing.

 

“Then she doesn’t know me at all.”

 

 

Her soft snores livens in the dark room. You cradle her head on your shoulder, closely to avoid her wound. You shift the cushion and wrap your arm around her, placing your leg up on the small coffee table and then you watch the pitter patter of the rain saturating against the window pane.

 

Your smile unrestricted.

 

“I love you so much, Lena Luthor. One day I’m going to tell you that.”

 

 _Like your bones have found a place to rest_.

 

It’s somewhere late in the morning when she stirs under your arms.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hello.” You say back. “So, do you have any plans for today?”

 

You notice the crinkle in her head when her brows furrows. “No, not really. Why?”

 

“Do you want to go out? I have never really been here and I don’t know I wouldn’t some sightseeing.”

 

“Don’t you have to -” She half-heartedly gestures out.

 

“Uh – well, J’onn said I could take a couple of days of a vacation?” Her crinkle deepens. “J’onn, he’s like uh the director of the DEO – you know the uh place where I work, so yeah?”

 

She smiles flush.

 

“I would love too.”

 

 

 

The Christmas ornaments that were dangling in your apartment wasn't nearly as fancy as the ones in the store. It wasn't at all modern and truth be told, the faces have these little smudges of dirt.

 

You touch the angel, hanging above the tree in the living room. It’s old, the wings on the back still shiny but had become lulled with age. You knew you should move them aside and get something that sparkled, fresh and new. But dirt and the golden crispiness was not the only thing that have been accumulated, it was soaked in memories and laughter, drenched in happy times.

 

A bridge well between now and tomorrow.

 

You don’t count the time of his absence anymore. He’s there in your memory you know, but somehow not as vibrant as your present.

 

You turn the knob and enter. Your apartment is not only soaked in after effects of Christmas but there’s this indulgent smell of dough and mashed potatoes that made you leap off the ground.

 

You hang your coat on top of Lena’s, and take the groceries to the small kitchen island. Lena’s hand are endowed in cookie doughs. You watch are curious as ever as she curls bundles of dark chocolate in these, before shaping them up and placing them in the oven. She moves to Maggie who still pretty shaky from the previous kitchen incident but somehow carries herself well enough to make good mashed potatoes.

 

Lena’s back in turned and you are still dwelling with love and awe and utter wonderment of the apparent brookies that are being made, that you dip a long finger in the dough to taste it only to be spat on the hand with a wooden spatula.

 

“No. Kara.”

 

“Yes. Kara.” You pout. “Please let me taste it, Lena.” The blues in yours melts in her green.

 

She sighs.

 

“Just one dip.” And she raises the spatula to your mouth. The gooey softness snows inside your mouth.

 

“You are awesome, Lena.”

 

The chaste cheek kiss is nothing of an uncommon occurrence but every time you do it, it feels like you have been doing it for years.

 

You don’t know what to make of the scrutinizing look of Maggie has planted on her Lena. The knowing heat in those doe eyes makes her shy away, coughing on her empty throat – you feel the dark walloping of her heart, the sudden rush of blood flow increase its momentum.

 

“Are you okay?” You ask, concerned too fast that Maggie nearly gags.

 

“She’ll live, I’m sure.” Maggie smirks, off handedly, winking at Lena.

 

You don’t notice, instead chastising Maggie for her childish behavior. You peel open you apron and move out of the kitchen, “I’ll get you some water, Lena.”

 

You are deliberating in getting the water, when you ears peek up the low whispered wavelength of their voices.

 

 _“When will you tell her?”_ You hear Maggie ask.

 

 _Tell me what?_ You narrow your eyes, the clunk of your chest too heavy at the similar question when Alex had asked you that. You had answered with a “I’m waiting for the right moment” but you knew that wasn’t your honest answer, because every moment with Lena felt right, so what were you waiting for?

 

Maybe you were waiting for that other shoe to drop. Maybe the irony of a Luthor and a Super will remain an irony.

 

_“Tell her what?” You hear Lena ask back, but even in the walls that separate you hear the raise in of heart. Your own heart starts beating in her symphony._

 

_“You know what.” No body speaks for a long time, you wonder if they are having a cold staring contest._

 

_“I don’t know. I don’t know.”_

 

_“You are an idiot, Luthor.”_

 

The conversation dies hereafter.

 

 

 

It’s in late or early hours of 30th of December, Lena’s cracking some super cryptic coding of Lex’s dwindling her big glasses as she stares at the screen before vigorously typing something in the keyboard.

 

The DEO’s empty.

 

Most of its agents either home ¬or doing Rao knows what – but they are certainly not working. Winn’s asleep somewhere in his office, you can literally hear his gruffly snores – Alex and Maggie are definitely cuddling back in their apartment - even J’onn’s gone home.

 

And you.

 

You are somehow in between “how beautiful Lena looks even at 2am in the morning” and “bored-ly yawning”.

 

Its takes another lengthy yawn from you when Lena detaches her eyes from the screen.

 

“You should go home, Kara.”

 

“And deprive you off my breathtaking company?” You tiredly joke, the wattage in your smile never dipping. “Nope.”

 

“Kara.”

 

“No, Lena.” You sit straighter in the couch, peeling of the zip of your boots. “By the way, did the tell you, take your job as the DEO’s tech consultant quite seriously? Talk about work ethics.”

 

She chuckles and the sound resonates in the closed chambers, meandering in the curvature of your soul.

 

“Fine. Then let me get coffee.”

 

She touches your cheeks, and you find yourself leaning into it, the touch assuage a lullaby in you. You nod close lidded.

 

By the time, she’s back, you are already asleep but you wonder in the morning if her kiss on your cheek was yet another something you had conjured.

 

 

 

You wake up some hours later to shallow probing in your side, instead. Your vision’s disoriented at first but then known profile stands static before your eyes.

 

“Mon-el?”

 

“Hi, Kara.” He smiles at you, a low pitched stubble somehow prominent-ing the regal in him. He stands straighter than you had ever seen, in light Daxamite wear. He nearly pulls you up in your feet, still a bit unsteady from your broken slumber, “I miss you so much, Kara.” He whispers, the hair around his lips needling against your skin.

 

You nudge his arms down, almost trying too hard to under the current predicament of the situation. You overlook his shoulders to see Alex standing cross-armed, a tight smile plastered on her face.

 

“I missed you too, Mon-el. But what are you doing here? I mean I thought - ” Your eyes ajar as the possible hypothesis, “Wait, is this another Daxamite invasion? Is your mother back? Oh Rao, is Lena safe?”

 

“Kara -”

 

“Where’s Lena? Alex? What’s going on?”

 

It’s Mon-el who holds you by your shoulders, nudging you out of your anxiety.

 

“There is no invasion nor there’s going to be one. I came alone so no need to worry about my mother and for Lena, I believe I saw herself out just a couple of hours ago.”

 

“Oh. Where -”

 

“Budget meeting.” Alex supplies. She cautiously moves her eyes between you and Mon-el, hands hanging loosely by her side. “Well, why don’t you talk and I’m – I’ll be around in case you need me.”

 

She eyes Mon-el one final time before heading out of the control center.

 

You find yourself glancing at your phone, wondering why Lena didn’t wake up you, –just in case for a message or even a missed call –but the screen’s blank. Disappointment tints your heart.

 

The two of you stand for too long it seems, just a few feet apart but somehow even being this close to him, you feel lightyears away.

 

“Hey, Kara.” He says. You look up to see him looking at you. “Can we talk?” He sounds jaded and melancholic.

 

You nod.

 

 

 

National City frizzles and dances in white, nirvana liquidating everywhere – in emptiness, in tranquility, in merriment and in tomorrows. You find yourself staring at the clock too many times already, hoping the door will open and Lena will walk in.

 

Everyone does, so apparently except her.

 

It’s a pre-New Years Eve kinda dinner. James – Winn – Maggie – Lucy – J’onn settles down and so does Mon-el in Lena’s seat. It doesn’t settle right with at all. You find yourself heaving and breathing – crashing plates and glasses – overheating or burning food – you are just restless and you can’t make out her heartbeat.

 

Your phone vibrates in a notification. You nearly jump at it only it turns out to be Eliza. Her notifying that she would be joining everyone tomorrow. 31st.

 

You try so damn hard to school your disappointment, dialing up Lena’s number for umpteenth time this evening. It ends in voicemail.

 

Alex pulls you into the kitchen, handing you the china plates.

 

“I called Jess. She said, Lena was in the budget meeting and that it would most likely be ending up late.”

 

“Okay.” You nod. “Just go ahead and I’ll follow.”

 

“Alright. Just don’t break – you know what, break as many as you like.” Alex gives you a side hug, balancing the pot before walking upfront.

 

Your eyes shift to your phone again, glazed with a glassy layer of disappointment. You don’t blink, fearing they’ll drip. You just stay there for a while.

 

 

 

Mon-el’s looking at the plethora of framed pictures on the wall. You find him picking of a particular one of the wide array. The picture makes you smile most heartedly than throughout the entirety of the evening.

 

It’s the one with Lena and you up in the breezy Eiffel Tower. Both of you bundled up in woolen garments, so close that’s it’s hard to differentiate when you start and she ends.

 

“She had this meeting in Paris. And I kind of went there to visit up and we ended up sightseeing.” You exuberantly stare at her face.

 

“And this one?”

 

You follow his finger to the one. With Maggie of Alex, Lena on you.

 

“Lucy invited us out at her house and we ended up playing chicken fight. We won, of course.”

 

There’s this feverish impassionate in your stare at her pictures that seems too private to Mon-el. You don’t notice.

 

He moves out to the balcony, leaning against the door, hand holding timidly onto the beer bottle, he stares at the starless sky above, before he’s eyes darts down to you.

 

“It’s been one long year. Out there. Zothura’s cold, you know. It’s not Daxam. Not like Earth. Zothura’s sun doesn’t have anything on Earth either and certainly not in the memories I have made here.”

 

He stares at you too brokenly. So transparently.

 

“I have lead my people to safety, it was something I was born to do. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t think of you but somewhere in this one year, I grew. I understood that one might fall in love quite easily but the love that is born of friendship and respect and admiration, I think I would be a fool to compete with that.”

 

His words clog you.

 

He places a distant kiss on your lips. It tastes of salt and goodbye.

 

“I came on Earth to see you again. No matter how I wish - ” He stops. “It’s been a true pleasure, Kara Zor-el.”

 

“Mon-el, I’m so sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. You are in love after all.”

 

“Lena – she’s so special.”

 

“I know. Your eyes – they just liven up just in her name, Rao, Kara.” He chugs the contents of his bottle in a gulp. He pauses, looking up at you. “You haven’t told her have you?”

 

You redden just a bit.

 

“No, I – I haven’t yet. I don’t know if she – you know feels the same.”

 

Mon-el grins. “Trust me, she does. Have you not seen how she looks at you? Like you are the sun and she most definitely gave me the eyes that she would bury me alive if you ever hurt you again. Me against her, can you imagine but still.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yes. She protects you more than you know.”

 

I know – the phrase cements in your throat. God, you know. You have seen. You have felt and Good Rao, you never wish to see her like that again.

 

He squeezes your shoulder one more time before heading back inside.

 

 

 

She texts you at 1am.  
_I’m tired. I hope you enjoyed today. I’ll talk to you later._

 

Countable words in one text against your countless ones.

 

Its leaves you bereft of sleep and behind closed shutters you only see her. You fidget with the phone in your hand.

 

What if she doesn’t love you? You ask yourself. You ask yourself over and over again.

 

But what if she does?

 

It’s 3.30am.

 

You can’t wait for the sunrise to talk to her.

 

You need to breathe. You need to breathe her. You need to see her. You need to love her. And you need her to give you love. Her love.

 

You slip on your suit and are gone in the darkness.

 

 

 

You are jumpy in your bones.

 

You feel cold.

 

You feel hot.

 

Your heart is bumming in your ears.

 

You are not thinking clearly and she’s certainly sleeping.

 

And then there’s snow on her balcony, you misjudge your landing and you slip right through her balcony glass.

 

The alarm triggers and shortly after, a petite figure jumps in on you with a lamp, not before flickering the lights open.

 

“Kara?”

 

“Hi.” You smile hesitantly, eyes taking in Lena, bare foot in pajamas armed with a lamp. She incredulously shocked before shutting down the alarm sooner so as not to notify the police, before placing the lamp on the table.

 

You stand from the glass, skirting down the shards.

 

“What are you doing here? At this hour no less?” Lena gushes, before reaching out to you. “Good lord, are you hurt? Did something happen? Kara, te-”  
She stops short seeing you smile down at her. All day you have been feeling so not you and now this feeling in you – this love – it stretches throughout your body, overwhelming your senses, making your complete.

 

“Kara?”

 

You take her hand in yours, pressing her bod gently against her. “I’m so irrevocably in love with you, Lena Luthor.” You say moon-eyed at her. “And I couldn’t wait any second not letting you know that. I just l -”

 

Lena presses her palm over your lips.

 

“Don’t do this to me. Don’t say these words which you’ll regret later, words which time will not be able to take back from me, Kara.”

 

You pull the flush surface of her palm, pressing it to your lips.

 

“But I do, Lena.”

 

“And what Mon-el?” She tries to move from you, but your hand on the outline of her waist only makes you come closer to you.

 

“I loved him. A part of me will always care for him but he has nothing on you. He has nothing on the feelings that you give me – because I stupidly smile at you when you text me – I dream of you in open eyes – there’s not a thing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe – and every day I keep falling in love with you more and more. You are so good, you know, and you think you don’t deserve anything but bewitched me and I know you might not feel the same but - ”

 

She kisses you and the world falls away. It’s slow and soft, comforting in ways that words will never be. Lena’s hand rests below your ear, her thumb caressing your cheek as your breaths mingled. She runs her fingers down your spine, pulling your closer until there was no space left between you and she can feel the beating of your heart against her chest.

 

“I’m most ardently in love with you too.”

 

The whispered confession in the dimmed darkness bites primal into you. The next thing you know, you have slammed her lips to yours,  
pressing your tongue to the seam of her lips and at the grant of access, you delve inside her mouth, knocking the wind of her lungs. It was a very sloppy yet lustful with the strong scent of old wine meshing in salted tears intermingling in your billowing breaths. Your arms reach up, lowering down tangling onto her hips as you lift her up towards her couch.

 

She already removing her sweater, mouths baring detaching when you move away from her, warm forehead pressing against hers.

 

“You don’t have to. Not today.” You say breathless, trying to cage in the desperation in you that seeks her.

 

She kisses you spirited, a wallowing darkness over edging the soft greenness of her eyes.

 

“I want you. I need you. I love you, Kara.”

 

Her sweater falls scattered to the ground.

 

“Only Rao know, how much I’m in love with you.” You carve your words on her skin, teeth nipping the pale silkiness as you carry up to her bedroom.

 

 

 

_Lena Luthor was a diamond uncut in rough._

_It’s her inner beauty that shone in your darkest hours – you couldn’t help but fall in love with her over and over again._

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time in this fandom and I hope you enjoy the fic as much as I loved writing it. And I would love to hear your comments, thoughts - yada yada 
> 
> Thank you.


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